Moon Child

When Jake was younger, he had a whole room to himself, yet his mother was always quick to let him know that it was her room, and that only he was allowed to actually occupy it. 

Her point, as he would discover later, was that the parents had won everything, so he was just an occupant. Sometimes he couldn't be at peace with the idea that he was just that, an occupant in a white room full of things he thought were his, but they would soon remind him that even every last one of his drawings didn't belong to him. 

Because not even the crayon from the sheets found in the trash could ever belong to anyone other than their parents.

He was always quite lonely, and when he thinks about it, the first word that could describe him is empty, because that's what he could feel the most: emptiness. One that he wanted to fill with affection, people, and experiences. And since no one used to ask for anything, as if that emptiness only existed in him, he decided that it was normal, that no one else felt that emptiness and he should hide it. 

He does not consider himself a strange person, but perhaps seen from the outside, it may be due to the environment where he grew up. 

Many people can be nice and say that Jake has just had a different life, after all, his parents were. They were not those parents from a movie or a soap opera. They are not the parents who wait for you at the end of school to pick you up, his mother would never do something like that.

His father had never been especially loving, but he couldn't say that he disappeared either, which was much more than could be said for the fathers of some other children his age. 

There was something about him that must mean he was different, he would have done something in some other life to bring out the deep emptiness of someone unbecoming his age.

Since childhood, he had had a dangerous creativity, which had increased over time, if creativity can be called the fact that he had become more and more suitable to be the avatar of Khonshu. 

When you're going through grief, the last thing you need in those moments is for them to tell you that they "understand" what you're going through. What's the point of them understanding? 

You don't feel accompanied, it doesn't change how you feel, grief is something very personal, and no one other than the person who is suffering at the moment knows it. There are several parts of grief, which one sometimes disarranges and adjusts, then goes through a stage and returns again. 

When you are a child, the pain threshold is just something small, it is a dot, and as you grow, the dot becomes a circle. What hurt you before, stops hurting like the same, now you have developed a certain strength based on it. 

Jake Lockley had to learn that at a young age. He only reaches the age of adolescence when his parents die, and he can't remember much of what happened, he only knows that the next thing that happens, he leaves with his great-aunt, Taweret. 

He believes that at some point someone asked him for something, and he accepted, but above all, he had just responded. 

Her aunt is a large, dark woman, with mahogany dyed hair, it should be noted, it is obvious that she is plagued with white locks due to age, and she has a strident voice that could cheer anyone up along with her great jovial personality.

Jake has only seen her once in his life, and it was years ago when he was still very little, but now it seems surreal to him to have to go live in the small town, given that he had lived in the city all his life. From being in a city where buses and people, noise, was his daily life, to a town where cars will be the biggest noise, it is a big change, at least for him.

It is said that he is not that bad, he can handle it, his mother has raised him to be a strong child, a child who can, who endures, because the children who endure are the ones who succeed. Or so she says... said.

When they are in front of the door, he carries two suitcases, one full of his clothes and the other has his few belongings, his parents were never a big fan of buying him toys or anything other than necessary. He didn't ask for it more than once either, just one no was enough for him not to ask again.

Asking meant that things could get a little awkward at home, and he's a good kid, he doesn't make his parents uncomfortable... he didn't, he wouldn't make his Aunt Taweret uncomfortable, or at least he'll try hard. 

"You'll see, you'll like the room, I think, I hope. It's in the attic, I thought you would like a very spacious place, the other room is for visitors."

Of course, I'm an unexpected, unwanted visitor, the boy thought. His aunt sure wasn't waiting for his parents to have an accident. 

He knows it happened, it's real, but he can't help but feel frustrated as he tries to remember because he doesn't have much he can see in his head. It's more like a blank canvas. No matter how much he wants to understand each other, it doesn't happen. So he leaves it as he is: he knows that he no longer has parents, he no longer lives in the big city, and now his new legal guardian is his great-aunt, Taweret. 

"Tomorrow we will talk to the school director, I'm sure that will be resolved in no time." She said as she opened the door, entering to leave her things on the sides. The keys, the coat, the wallet. "Come on, come in Jake, don't be afraid."

How can he not have it? But more than fear, discomfort. 

But he listened as he pulled the things. 

Surely his aunt thought he was a burden, that there would be no use for him to be there. She would be thinking about how to get rid of him, wouldn't she? It would be normal. Thinking that one way or another he had to be gone. 

He wouldn't even be surprised if she kicked him out the next day. Or somehow he does something himself that makes her decide that she can't live with him. 

For what seems like days, his head is in the clouds. He gets up, showers, has breakfast, goes to school, and comes straight back. How are his afternoons spent? He doesn't know, he's probably not even doing anything, not even homework. He should be minimally interested, but he's not, his brain doesn't even process what's happening.

Sometimes he can see the mirror smiling at him and at the same time he is confused by it, because he doesn't feel too happy. 

The house has several strange sounds, and he is sure that there is a ghost or that his aunt likes to play, because his name is shouted several times throughout the house. No matter how much he searches, sometimes his relative is not even at home, other days he realizes that maybe he has imagined it. 

But he can say that he feels a certain comfort in seeing that there is always a crow around, he had never seen a white crow. Did they exist? Maybe it's another type of bird. 

He thinks it is a white crow. He has never seen it, but he hears it, he is sure that it exists. He may have seen it several times out of the corner of his eye. Someday he might even maybe try to catch it. 

At three weeks, Jake already knows the direct way home, his aunt has stopped worrying that he might get lost, and he has taken the liberty several times of approaching the forest that surrounds the town. To get to it, there is a stone bridge that you have to cross, many times it stops in the middle to sit on one of the edges with its arms crossed. 

The water of the river under the bridge flows calmly, it is a light color and he can see the stones at the bottom, but he never sees fish or any other animals. 

He should be sure that the people he sees are real, but even that doesn't make him feel calm. In reality most of the time he feels like he is under water, it doesn't matter if he talks, no one will understand if he is under water with him, and no one above the water will hear him even if he screams. 

He should be worried that his aunt doesn't find him strange, nor is he very excited at the idea of being left alone, that Taweret will decide that he is too squeamish, that he is a problem child and she should get rid of him. So he tries to be quiet, to not cause too much trouble, and when he is home, he walks silently, trying not to disturb her, so that she doesn't hear his footsteps.

Taweret knows that seeing Jake like that is worrying, he was never a really malicious child, he was very naughty, no one would deny that, but from that to considering him a threat, there was a huge difference.

It shouldn't be so strange, Lockley is going through a complicated process at such a delicate time. A child's mind can be resilient, sure, but at what cost?

That day, Lockley threw off his shoes to jump into bed. He was tired, of what? School, walking, thinking, he didn't want to do homework. But at least it was the weekend, he could do it on Sunday. 

Doing homework is something he is not good at, but don't hate it either, it's more that he has a hard time giving his full attention when his mind can seem to focus on all the sounds the more he want to understand what's on the paper. Maybe that's why he sometimes ends up lying on the floor, with his hands on his stomach, and staring at the ceiling. 

The attic was a good place, in reality he had no complaints, he liked the silence, he could hear the birds and there was a skylight that never looked directly at his bed, but it did go from one end of the place to the other as the time passed. He had begun to learn the time without a watch, thanks to that light. 

That's when he heard it, settling down on the bed on his elbows. 

It was huge. 

This thin creature, clad in cloth like a mummy, without a neck, and with a golden insignia on its chest in the shape of a moon. He was wearing some kind of thin cloak in a diagonal shape and over where there should be a human head, there was a large, pointed bird skull. 

He was about to scream. But got it stuck in his throat with teary eyes. 

"Jake Lockley, I imagine."

His young heart seemed to drum loudly in his chest. 

"No?"

The curly-haired boy nodded, not sure if it was time to shout or if it was better to think that his life might be spared if he remained silent.

"The cat got your tongue, but you were very cheerful in class, you almost hit that boy, what's his name? That's right, Osborn, you called him a cheapskate."

That's when he relaxed. 

"He was a fourth-rate little guy. He thinks he can boss around everyone he meets just because he has money. Let him go to the city, let him rub shoulders with his people." 

Lockley had gotten into trouble by pushing Harry Osborn, one of the boys who also seemed to have some character problems. But unlike him, he had the money to be released from the prison that school detention entailed. 

Obviously the boy's father would definitely have bought anyone if there was any problem. 

The boy was not going to let things go just because there was a person who could "make his life miserable" with money. Let him defend himself on his own merits, maybe then he would have some respect for him.

There are days when that idea is easier to digest than others. 

Jake, like everyone else, has bad days and not so bad. 

But sometimes he doesn't know the good from the bad, not entirely. The worst thing is when those good and bad days can turn into weeks. Which affects their academic performance.

He can't say for sure that his grade decline will stop, but there is one thing he can say, and that is that he no longer feels completely insecure about wandering around the house, something that seems to relax Taweret. She was beginning to think that maybe there was something wrong, that she would need to take matters into her own hands. 

That day, she arrived a little later. She worked 6 days a week from morning to early afternoon at a nursing home, so she had the entire afternoon to spend with Jake. 

When Saturday arrived, he left his keys in the entryway.

He heard footsteps, and then the little feet running. Had he brought someone? 

"Jake?"

The sounds stop, and he approaches the kitchen, where the boy has his back to him, whispering animatedly. 

"Of course I can't do that, jumping into the river on a rainy day would be suicide... yes, but the dam hasn't filled in a long time." The boy sat down, staying still while the woman watched him. ", even if you promise me that you are going to save me, it will surely get cold soon, I don't want to."

It seems that after a few seconds, the boy whispers again, this time she does not understand the connection between the words, and some are grunts, rather than communicating something real, while writing things in a notebook. 

"No… yes, a cicada. Cicadas, did you know that they are a sign of the end of the world? Sure."

"Jake, I'm here."

The boy seems to realize who is behind him before turning around, looking like a scared little deer for a few seconds before relaxing. 

"All good?" She asks calmly, before approaching him. "What are you doing?"

She can see that there is a lined notebook, and does her best not to let out any expression that would reveal what she might be thinking. 

On the paper there was black graphite, shapeless faces, and creatures that she doesn't know if they should seem strange to him. There are skulls and there is fire, and she tells herself that it's probably just the young boy letting off steam through drawing, even if he doesn't do it very well. 

"I was just doing homework."

The boy began to collect, slamming the notebook shut when the woman tried to reach her hand toward his notebook. His, one in which she was not within the circle that she could touch him. Well, there was no circle, just him. Only he exists, he remembers, no one else, in some past there was another with whom he could have shared it, but he no longer exists. 

Does not exist. 

He takes everything in his arms before running towards his room, pulling the thread hanging from the ceiling so that the ceiling door opens and lets out a ladder. 

The woman does not stop him, and as soon as she saw him, the boy disappeared into his burrow, like a frightened animal.

One of those days, Jake leaves school a little surly. 

Khonshu hasn't stopped telling him that he needs him. For what, for his dirty work? Although he is flattered to be needed somewhere. 

He decides to go through the back door, the other one is always full of people, and between the laughter behind his head and some glitches that make him blink, he doesn't want to overthink anything.

He hears some murmurs, as well as a whimper. 

It's not your business, pringao,' he repeats himself.

"Shouldn't we go see? It could be your first job."

"I never agreed to anything, you assumed for yourself." He replies with some acidity.

The bird, upright and curious, does not move from its place when they hear a cry. 

Jake looks for where it came from before a boy was pushed against the hard brick wall. The books in his hands fall everywhere and he seems eager to pick them up. 

He ended up smiling when he approaches.

Whipping to get their attention, he manages to do so before delivering the first direct blow to one of them on the cheek, knocking him to the ground. The moan is immediate. 

"Do you like to pick on the weakest? I sound very cliche, but mess with someone your size, asshole."

The other two children soon want to get into the fight while the other, who had been against the wall, feels small, ends up curling up and hiding his head between his knees. He doesn't want to be there, that's obvious, but he can hear the screaming and the banging until there's nothing more to hear. 

He is not a violent boy, which is why he feels quite upset when he is attacked, he always reacts like a mouse wanting to hide in the nearest hole.

Everything has gone silent.

When he raises his head, he can see that the boy who seconds ago was fighting with others is helping him pick up his things. 

"Sorry, I'll do it." He commented immediately. The first thing he wants to do is run out of there before he gets a series of what he has given to the others. 

Lockley denies, helping with a small smile, he can see that it has scared him. He is also able to notice that the boy is thin, and wears thick, black-framed glasses. He has dark skin and his eyes are those of a frightened lamb that seems to ask him to excuse him for even speaking to him. 

The eyes and the way his face tenses make him remember things he doesn't want. 

"Yell at him to shut up, or he'll hurt you." Lets out a voice.

"I'm Jake." Ignores the voice so he can address the boy. Part of him hopes his head will explode the moment the curly boy speaks.

"The new boy." Answers the other, Jake realizes that the explosion was not going to happen, at least not for the moment. He watched the boy finish putting everything in his backpack. He didn't mean it maliciously, but there was still a tinge of guilt as he avoided his gaze. "Everyone has been talking about you for a long time..."

"And you?"

"I? Well…” He licked his own lips. 

He doesn't talk, he listens. There aren't many people he likes to talk to, or even tolerate for too long before wanting to flee from that presence. 

"Your name." 

The boy took off his glasses, putting them in his backpack. 

"Steven Grant. I am grades older than you."

That seems to calm Jake down for the moment, and he looks at him more closely. 

His hair is wavy and styled with gel, without his glasses, you can see that his eyes are like two sad drops, but they have an innocent and sweet shine that immediately inspires confidence in you. 

He doesn't hesitate, from then on, he shows up and deigns to be close to him, when he realizes that he and Steven are heading home the same way. Only that Lockley lives a little further in the background, so the first to get off the road is Grant, and not him. 

The youngest of the two has never been very good at schoolwork, in fact, he is very good at subjects like History and Mathematics, although he doesn't really like Biology. He hates Languages, because having to write perfectly is a stress for him, who often gets his words and letters confused, like a strange and bizarre remix that makes no sense. 

Of course, this has also happened to him in Mathematics, the difference is that he pays much more attention because it is a subject that he likes much more. 

But even with that, it is not enough. 

Thanks to Steven, he discovered that there is more than one way to get home, although the boy doesn't seem to dare tell him much more, so he doesn't press him just yet.

But above all, whenever they approach the river, Steven Grant suddenly backs away. There is a path out there that could take them home faster, but even though he told him, he didn't show it to him.

The forest path is the most attractive path for him, obviously, but he won't take that walk without someone who has been there all his life, like Grant. And from what he can tell, the boy is not very good at facing his fears either, it seems that they control him.

He wonders why, but always keeps his mouth shut about it. His mother used to tell him that he asked too many questions, that irritated her, and that could save him from big awkward moments, which she claimed he made everyone feel. 

His mother had always told him that he was different, that a person who makes others feel strange is not exactly a good model of person for others to approach. 

Since the youngest has known Grant, he has realized that some people tease him, a few help him, among them, Layla, a girl in his grade who has curly hair in lots of light copper. 

Up to a certain point, he had seen her from afar with her new friend, but when Jake had approached once, because he wanted to talk to Steven, the girl had immediately locked eyes with him, as if he were some kind of intruder between her and Grant.

Shortly after he had discovered that Layla and Grant have been best friends since they were little, which gives him the certainty that Layla adores her friend, but above all she is a little protective of him. That made sense as to why the gazes initially swung towards him in intermingled hostility and curiosity. 

But once he's done with it, he digests it quickly and adapts. Jake slowly joins in, or at least, they had made a silent pact to be friendly with each other. 

Even though his grades were low, Taweret doesn't make an attempt to scold him, but instead asks him if there is anything he needs. He often asks him about classes, even if Jake isn't very interested.

He himself has a hard time at school, his grades dropped compared to when he studied in the city, but he begins to improve emotionally, which is why Taweret is not so upset nor does she usually attract his attention, she just wants to help him. 

Still, there are days where the boy is really quiet, he seems almost depressed, silent. He eats, but he doesn't seem to be there with her. It seems that on those days he simply succumbs to catatonia. 

One day she seems to get tired of feeling that anxiety, and she's not stupid at all. She may not be a doctor, but she knows about oddities, and decides that she will take him for a check-up after so many behaviors that she wants to classify simply as extravagant .

While his great-aunt doesn't know him long or well enough to decide when he has started acting strange, she can tell when behavior is out of the ordinary for anyone. After all, she works with people, many of her patients are senile and have dementia. 

Has experience in the area of mental health, or rather, in its deterioration.

So it doesn't take long to notice that Jake is having some difficulties. 

She remembers him when he was little, he was a bright child. Witty, but charismatic. He jumped from one side to the other, he was a storm in quiet moments and although it was not that he wanted to be the center of attention, he did catch quite a few glances. Not all good, it should be cleared. 

That morning she had seen that little Lockley has the same stupidity as a bald man's hair. He himself had been trying to pay extremely close attention to everything she told him, he even seemed to sense where she was going to move and what she would ask of him next. All of this, in the short period of just waking up. 

When they left the house, he had gotten into the car unconvinced, but he let himself be done, it's not like he really had a choice. 

Taweret, like so many other times, had not been able to avoid starting a conversation, while Jake watched the pastures being left behind on the outskirts. 

He could see in the rearview mirror the elongated figure, tangled in old bandages. That bird carried a long staff equal to his height and a bird skull for a head. He didn't say goodbye, he just stayed still.

"How do you feel at school? I know the beginning may have been a little strange, but I hope you feel much better now."

"Everyone knew me."

"It's a small town." She explains softly. 

Jake nodded as he leaned against the door. 

Living in a small town meant that everyone knew each other, so he wouldn't stop being the new kid for a while. He is quite irritated by that, if he may say so. 

Everyone knows about him, his name, where he goes, his age, who his parents were, who Taweret was, where he lived. There was no such thing as a gray area or personal information, everything was public in that place, and if it weren't for the fact that he knows how to deal with “not having anything of his own”, not even space, it is likely that it would have affected him much more than it does. 

"Have you made friends yet? You can bring them home, you know." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a second. Good, but can it really? Or is it just something where he will tell her at the end that that house is actually hers and never his? 

Anyway, that place didn't feel like its own yet. It felt more like being on a long vacation.

When they arrive at the hospital on the outskirts of town, in the city, Jake says nothing. He doesn't want to talk, the only thing is that he wishes the silence was absolute and not just on the part of his aunt. 

There's a part behind your brain that keeps talking like it's never going to stop, and it's irritating, to say the least. 

When he sees them being left in the waiting room, he doesn't even complain, instead he waits, until it is his turn, passing with a serious face. It doesn't even completely occur to him that this is his date until the man asks both of them to sit down. 

"How have you been, Jake? I hope much better."

The boy feels confused, have they seen each other before?

His memory isn't that good, it never has been, but he doesn't worry about it in those moments, he just wants to get it over with so he can go home. Not only is it a boring place, it's that Khonshu doesn't seem pleased, and with that came him appearing in various places, which can be quite frustrating, confusing, and if he's very distracted, sometimes leading him to wince. 

For what seems like an eternity, they ask them questions and as soon as Dr. Harrow is satisfied, he is free to remain silent. 

Harrow asks him about his mother, about his father, he asks about his family. He answers most of those questions in the present tense, as if they were still alive, although there is the subconscious reminder that they are not, because his chest hurts, it stings. 

But things don't end there, tho he would have liked things to be that way. 

That Harrow guy ends up asking his Aunt Taweret to leave him alone for a little short session. 

This only provokes his silent hostility, because when they are alone, the first thing the oldest does is turn the table around to sit on the edge and stare at him. 

Jake looks back at him with some disdain. Whatever he was trying to do, he could just stop doing it, because it wasn't going to work, it just wasn't. I don't know if he'll be intimidated by anyone, much less by a gray-haired man who needs a damn stick to walk. One that he is tempted to grab and jam into his chest to get out of there. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his place, closes his eyes and then looks at his shoes. He shouldn't cause any more problems. 

"How do you feel, Jake?" 

He shrugged. 

"Do you like living with your Aunt?"

Same reaction.

"What have you done these weeks? Tell me something about it."

The minor only repeated that action again. 

That way he wouldn't be able to get out, something tells him so, but he doesn't feel encouraged to respond. Not really, since none of that interests him. 

"Your Aunt tells me that you have done some interesting things. Although also, you have had some differences of opinion at school."

Of course, other words disguised to say that he had actually fought several times to save Steven. After all, he likes the boy and can't get him to fully defend himself before he ends up crying and on the floor. 

"I was just defending myself."

"Are they bothering you at school?" The curiosity was genuine. 

The Lockley boy did not seem to be that type of person who usually gets harassed, but the other way around. 

He has a wild look, and one of his eyes has been marked by his accident, in a red color that caught anyone's attention, it is impossible to miss it. 

"No."

"So?"

The boy just sinks into his chair, he doesn't want to say anything more. 

"And how are you doing with classes?"

Jake shrugged. 

The older man didn't get irritated by it, instead he returned to the previous topic. 

"Have you made friends?"

He nodded dryly.

"Could it be that it's someone you've fought over?"

Bingo. 

Jake only stopped looking at his shoes to look to the side, sulking at himself and at the oldest, crossing his arms. He didn't plan to say more. 

"You know, a person who defends his friend will always be a very good friend. I'm glad you're meeting people." And the worst thing about that voice was that it sounded sincere, which made him feel sick to his stomach. He wanted to get out of there. "Your aunt was worried, thinking you weren't adjusting, but you don't seem like the kind of boy who likes conflict."

"Oh no?" He looked at him again. "And what kind of boy do I seem to you, Doc?" He raised his eyebrow, there was almost arrogance, but it was far from it. He was annoyed. 

In fact, he doesn't even know what's bothering him so much. Which of all is really making him grunt and nasty looks, because there is too much that he doesn't understand, especially since everything has been changing. He can't help but feel like he's being carried by a current that he's not even able to see. 

He's forced to succumb to things he doesn't understand, abrupt changes, and people he's not even sure he likes. 

"Well, you would have to tell me that. What kind of person do you think you are?"

He wants to answer that he doesn't know, but his previous irritation begins to turn into doubt. 

One of the most annoying things about his mind is how easily emotions confuse him. Sometimes he doesn't know exactly what he is feeling or why he feels that way, he only knows that he feels bad or good. That he wants to hit, or laugh, but he understands little of what is happening, if he is not given the time to think about it. 

And worst of all: he don't always like to know what he is feeling. 

"Well, if not that, tell me what kind of person you would like to be when you grow up." He spoke softly to him. 

Jake's eyes looked at the older man with some suspicion. 

Doctor Harrow was thin, he had light eyes that seemed to want to pierce his body to see what he was hiding. He had jaw-length hair, but well combed, sprinkled with many gray hairs. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say that his hair was more white and black than black and white. But above all, he had a face that was kind, and at the same time, capable of telling many lies. 

"Not an interesting topic of conversation, perhaps. But it's important to know what kind of person you'd like to be, Jake." He smiled at him, although he realized that the youngest was looking at the things on the desk until he was stuck on a transparent glass pyramid.

"I want to stop feeling too much." He admitted looking at the older man. His voice wasn't shaky, but it sounded empty. There was no sadness, no fear, it seemed more like a rehearsed response.

Sure, anyone would want to stop feeling bad, to Lockley that made enough sense. 

"What are you talking about?"

Jake gently shook his head, maybe it wasn't a good idea, and his eyes looked to see Khonshu standing behind the man. 

"Tell him how you feel, it will only be worse. That's what they do many times. Do you think they want to help you?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to be able to ignore that voice.

"Jake . Don't worry, just tell him what's going on." The second one sounded, this time it's softer, even being kind. He only looked at him for a second before blinking away from both of them. 

Now Dr. Harrow seemed to have understood something, the gleam of recognition in his clear eyes as he nodded. 

"We'll do something. I'm going to ask you to do some tests, okay? I know the world can be very overwhelming sometimes, but it doesn't have to be that way. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening or cooperate with me."

"Jake."

Khonshu. 

"Jake."

The Moon Child. 

"Jake."

Both. 

"Alright." the boy looked at him. 

The doctor nodded softly. 

"We will do those studies, because I want to make sure and rule out several things. But tell me, have you seen things that aren't there? Or maybe very strange things that you don't know how they got to that place." He looked at him, while he was with a small notebook where he had started to write some things. Surely they were the tests he would need to take. "Sometimes, you may have heard strange things, too."

He doesn't want to answer him, partly because he doesn't want to talk, the desire has gone again, but he knows he has to do it. But it is said that maybe another day, if there ever is another time.

"Do you sometimes feel one thing and suddenly another very different, or do you find the way you feel overwhelming?"

He knows well that when a behavior is seriously marked by humor, that could be more of a disorder, and if so, things could change drastically. 

"You feel, you feel. I don't feel, yes I feel, no." He whispered anxiously. "Yes, I feel, I mean that I don't do it like others. But I do not want to talk about that. Sometimes I get very saddily, sentimentilly." He admitted under the minor. 

"Sentimentilly?"

"I feel too much. I feel a lot, sometimes nothing. Sometimes I'm very sentimentilly."

The older man only nodded softly. As if he could understand something in all that boy's mess. Maybe he did, but Lockley prefers to think th other way round, it gives him comfort to think that Harrow doesn't have a damn idea what's going on in his head. That he can still hide the secrets from him.

"Jake… the quicker we know what's happening, the easier it is to get a prognosis and a way to help you. The longer you wait, the way you feel may get worse."

His feelings didn't appear out of nowhere, they were more a combination of external factors that were stressing him out. 

And Arthur Harrow, right now it must be touching his balls to not realize it. 

It was contradictory to think that he wanted to keep everything to himself, but he also wanted that doctor to know what was happening to him. Because he has no idea.

"If you can take his pen, you can stab him in the eye."

The voice repelled him, this time it was unknown. The female laugh seemed to be soft, calm, before she spoke again. 

"Stab him the pen, Jake."

He felt anxiety in his hands. He does not want to do it. 

"Take the pen, grab it. Gouge out his eyes. You'll see, that will keep you from getting locked up."

He doesn't want to be locked up. 

"Stab. The. Pen." 

He trembles from the feeling of humidity in his hands. Sticky, even, he has to look away. Jake doesn't recognize the female voice. 

"They're going to lock you up, Jake Lockley." They hissed. 

During the rest of those questions, he remains silent, succumbing to his own mind that tells him to do something, anything. Although well, whatever, by definition it was actually doing harm, or running away. 

Maybe he sees him struggling, or there will be something about him that forces the older man to take something out of a box on his desk. 

"Take this. They're crackers, you'll feel better." He called him subtly while he handed him a small package. 

Lockley was initially suspicious, the voice continued whispering incomprehensible things, but he had previously discovered that eating things like that, chewing, the fact of having sound, made the voices go away at least momentarily. Sometimes even Khonshu would stay silent, even if he could see or feel him brooding around him.

He took the cookies to open them. 

And after that, they talk again with Taweret.

But when they get up, Taweret follows close behind, but before he can lose Arthur Harrow, who he has no idea how he now knows the first name of, he turns to speak. 

"We had seen each other before, right?"

The man looked at him, a few seconds of a strange glow, while he smiled. 

"Yes, Jake."

Well, he's fucked, then.